Death on your mind
by Kylestra
Summary: It is known by almost anyone in the universe that if you work on something for too long it gets stuck in your brain. But what happens if you work with death?


Summary: It is known by almost anyone in the universe that if you work on something for too long it gets stuck in your brain. But what happens if you work with death?

Disclaimer: Terry Pratchett owns the lott of it, I don't, I'd say that's obvious enough.

Authors note:I'm Dutch, therefore I thought I should apologise beforehand for any mistakes in the English department (or any other department really). This was a quick story written as an extra for an English assignment in the hope of getting a better grade (Which I did, Yippie). Enjoy, and please review.

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Death on your Mind **

It is known by almost anyone in the universe that if you work on something for too long it gets stuck in your brain (not literally because that would hurt and could cause death, or possibly brain damage). It happens to almost everyone, composers get their own tunes stuck in their heads. Mathematicians dream of mathematical problems at night and wizards have magic on their mind, both literally and figuratively speaking. But what happens if you work with death?

Imagine if you will a graveyard at night, and imagine if you will the building left of the graveyard, imagine a lone figure crouching on the roof. This figure was Brick, of the Ankh-Morpork assassins guild. It is often thought that being an assassin is an easy profession, after all, how hard can it be to kill someone? Anyone who joins the assassins guild knows it can be pretty hard if you're an assassin. An assassin needs a certain sense of style, simply hitting somebody over the head with something heavy and dumping them in the river Ankh just won't do (especially since that won't necessarily kill them because they might not sink). No you had to do it with style, throwing knives, poison, that was style. Soundless, one moment he's alive next he's dead, that was style. And that was not easy.

Brick had style, from his soundless, squeaky clean (without the squeak) black leather boots, to his mysterious black mask. He was all style, and he was all good. If Brick wanted you dead, you would soon find yourself pushing up daisies (1). Brick dealt in death, death was his business, and he kept death in business, it was good business.

Inside the building on the left of the graveyard a note was pushed under the door. Mr. Itsipolas picked it up, it said: "OooEeeOooEeeOoo" (2). Mr. Itsipolas read it, turned it over, read it again and then he died.

"Oh bugger." The ghost of Mr. Itsipolas said.

"THAT IS YOUR POINT OF VIEW." Death answered.

Mr. Itsipolas stared at his dead body, it had a knife sticking out of the back of its head.

"Is this... normal?" Mr. Itsipolas asked hesitantly.

"VERY REGULAR, THE CIRCLE OF LIFE AND WHAT NOT." Death reassured him.

"Hmm... you wouldn't happen to know who'd want me dead?" Mr. Itsipolas asked curiously.

Death shook his skull "NO, I ONLY COME FOR THE SOUL, THE REST IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS."

Mr. Itsipolas gazed back at his body. "Well, should have seen it coming I suppose."

"YES YOU SHOULD HAVE." Death said eying Mr. Ixolite's note in the body's hand.

Mr. Itsipolas looked expectantly at Death. "So...now what?"

"NOW YOU DIE."

Brick was sitting in the shadow of a tomb, doing... whatever ritual it was that assassins do after a kill. It didn't matter anyway, there was no one around to see if he was doing it right. Or was there?

"THAT WAS RATHER MESSY."

Brick looked up unsurprised. "I don't tell you how to do your job, and you don't tell me how to do mine."

"ALRIGHT, NO NEED TO GET TESTY." Death looked around curiously. "HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE GRAVEYARD SINCE THE CENTURY OF THE DROP BEAR, OR WAS IT THE CENTURY OF THE TROUT(3)?"

"You know we have to stop meeting like this, one day I'm actually going to die, but then when you come to get me, I won't believe I'm really dead." Brick said.

"BEING DEAD IS NOT ABOUT WETHER YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE DEAD OR NOT, YOU SIMPLY ARE, AND YOU'LL KNOW YOU ARE." Death explained patiently.

"I suppose you still can't tell me when exactly I'll kick the bucket (4)?"

Once more death's short amount of time spent with humans caught up with him. "EXACTLY WHAT BUCKET ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?" Death asked confused.

Brick sighed. "You know, when do I meet my maker, sleep with the worms."

It was surprising to see how a skull could radiate such a feeling of confusion. "SHOULD I KNOW THIS?"

Brick gave up. "When do I die?"

Death finally understood. "I NEVER UNDERSTAND YOU HUMANS, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN?"

"Because we'd rather not, now can you tell me or not?" Brick asked again.

"YOU KNOW I CANNOT."

Brick expertly threw one of his knives, it pinned a firefly to a tree.

"IMPRESSIVE." Death said in a weak attempt at small talk.

"Tell me..." Brick said as he went to retrieve his knife. "...what is the use of me being able to see and talk to Death, but he can't tell me anything?"

Death thought about it. "YOU COULD SEE IT AS AN OCCUPATIONAL HAZZARD, YOU WORK WITH DEATH, YOU GET DEATH."

"Huh?" Was all Brick could manage.

"MIND YOU, YOU'VE GOT DEATH ON YOUR MIND."

"Death on my mind?" Brick questioned.

"YOU KNOW HOW WHEN YOU WORK ON SOMETHING A LOT, IT GETS IN YOUR HEAD?" Death asked.

Brick nodded.

"WELL, YOU WORK ON DEATH A LOT." Death said.

"Great, so I got Death on my mind." Brick sighed again.

"WELL, I BEST BE OFF, LOTS TO DO, PEOPLE TO SEE." Death said. Brick started on a reply but before he could utter a word Death had disappeared.

The Librarian was out on a late night stroll, not something Ankh-Morpork citizens did very often because of the likelihood of never retuning home, or at least returning home poorer. However this was not true for the Librarian, for any thief or murderer thought twice about confronting a 300lb male orang-utan, even thiefs and murderers like to return home after a long night and they like to come home in one piece.

Brick exited the graveyard just as the Librarian ambled past.

"Oook." The Librarian greeted.

Brick returned the gesture. "Evening."

Brick decided to accompany the Librarian for a while. "So where you heading?" Brick asked.

"Ook eeek ook" The Librarian answered vaguely.

Brick was at a loss for something to say. "Right."

A silence descended between the two. Brick's mind wandered back to his conversation with Death.

"Eek eeek ook oook?" The librarian asked after a while.

Brick shrugged. "I've got death on my mind."

This time the Librarian was at a loss for words.

It is known by almost anyone in the universe that if you work on something for too long it gets stuck in your brain, and there's not a thing you can do about it. It's simply the way things are, the grand design of the universe (5) and so on. It'll have been this way when life had just begun, and it'll be this way when the disc stops turning. But for now the great A'Tuin will make its way steadily across the universe and somewhere on the disc a small rat assassin is having a heated discussion with the death of rats.

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1 Well just dirt really because daisies rarely manage to grow in Ankh-Morpork, and even then you would only be pushing up daisies if you came back as an undead, generally people expected you to stay buried and to leave the bloody daisies alone, because they don't have very many daisies in Ankh-Morpork. 

2 The last remaining banshee on the disc, Mr. Ixolite has a speech impediment, so instead of standing on the roof and screaming when there's a death in the house he writes "OooEeeOooEeeOoo" on a piece of paper and pushes it under the door.

3 Contrary to general belief, Death isn't very familiar with funeral decor. Deaths didn't normally take place in graveyards and tombs, except in rare unfortunate cases. The woods, the bottom of rivers, halfway down sharks, any amount of bedrooms, yes – Tombs no.

4 Another odd saying concerning death, because let's face it, when you die there is (usually) very little kicking and no buckets involved.

5 Although what exactly that grand design is, is so far unknown, but as it seems to contain worlds on the backs of giant turtles I wouldn't be surprised if it is slightly flawed.


End file.
